


Monsters

by GarnetSeren



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-08-20 09:38:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 13,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8244634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarnetSeren/pseuds/GarnetSeren
Summary: Their relationship may have come as a shock for some, but from the very beginning, something about Banner fascinated Natasha...Told from Natasha's PoV. FYI, writting in UK English, not US.





	1. Contact

“I'm sorry, that was mean. I just wanted to see what you'd do.”

Natasha's stance was flawless, even as her heart pounded, and adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her mask was firmly in place, no outward cracks to give away her inner turmoil, she was the picture perfect agent. As she had always been. Calm, collected, indomitable. Inside, she was quaking. It took a lot to scared Natasha, nothing short of her partner and best friend being MIA at any rate, but fear had well and truly sank it's fangs into her. And a twisted part of her, more twisted than the rest, was utterly fascinated by it. This quiet, unassuming, mild-manner man, possessed something inside of him, that could even move the Black Widow. She was impressed.

“Why don't we do this... the easy way,” Banner continued. “Where you don't use that, and the... other guy, doesn't make a mess. Okay? Natasha?”

She took in his apologetic, almost bashful, half smile. His placating hand gestures, the earnest expression on his face. Natasha was an expert at reading people, it had been a life long job after all, and everything about Banner screamed sincerity. He seemed to genuinely feel guilty for trying to frighten her. It was oddly... adorable. And the only thing she had even considered adorable, was Clint's kicked-puppy expression, whenever she refused to get him coffee. It also hadn't gone unnoticed, how Banner reluctantly referred to his alter-ego, which was intriguing. So with less hesitation than was possibly wise, Natasha lowered her gun.

“Stand down,” she said into the comm. link. “We're good here.”

“Just you and me?” Banner asked, unsurprised.

Natasha shrugged, and let some of real herself into her persona. “It's not like you don't have back up.”

She was sure that the smile he gave in response, was his first genuine one in years.

 

 

 


	2. Ignition

“In case you needed to kill me. You can't. I tried.”

The words hung thickly in the air. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha noticed the stricken look on Stark's face, and the confused look on Rogers. The former looked like a man who had been there, the latter looked like he couldn't fathom why anyone would attempt such a thing. She heard Thor shift uneasily behind her, and even Fury looked slightly uncomfortable. But Natasha's real attention focused on Banner. Naturally, the doctor wasn't happy with a cage that could plummet him to, what should have been, certain death... and she couldn't blame him for that. However, unlike what Rogers thought, Natasha could see that Banner wasn't even close to losing his temper. They had talked briefly, during their flight from Calcutta, when curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she just had to ask how he had managed a year without incident. A little hesitantly, Banner had explained the techniques he had mastered so far, and once he had realised she wasn't asking out of fear but curiosity, he had opened up about his extensive training in martial arts, yoga and meditation. It was obvious he took his efforts to control himself and his alter-ego deathly serious, which was something Natasha admired.

“I got low,” Banner continued, hugging himself. “I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth, and the guy spit it out.”

Contrary to popular belief, Natasha was human. With thoughts, feelings, and even empathy... she blamed Clint for that. As she listened, and took in the doctor's uncomfortable, almost defeated posture, she had the sudden urge to hug him... once again, she blamed Clint for that. Her best friend was such a tactile person. However, right now, she was Agent Romanov, not Natasha. So she settled for giving Banner a slight smile, barely a twitch of her lips, when he quickly glanced in her direction. For the most part, he stared down Roger's, Stark and even Fury. All at once. Not in an overly threatening way, just with a raise of his eyebrows and a stubborn set to his jaw. Natasha didn't think he even knew Banner knew he was doing it, quietly daring them to challenge him on the facts, and she was oddly proud of the doctor for it. She was sure Clint would like him... once,not if, they got him back.

“So I moved on,” Banner explained, tensely. “I focused on helping other people. I was good, until you dragged me back into this freak show, and but everyone ask risk.”

Natasha tensed, as she noticed the doctor's hand reach for the sceptre. She was certain he wasn't aware he was doing it. As his gaze locked with hers, she quickly assessed the colour of his eyes. Not looking for green, like she expected the others were, but for blue. She'd extensively scoured the surveillance footage of Clint's abduction, and his usually kind eyes, had been tinged an eerie blue. Natasha was certain the sceptre had something to do with it, and she was certain Loki was somehow controlling Banner through it. She debated asking Thor for his advice, since the trickster god was his brother, but every instinct told her not to take her eyes off the doctor. Her instincts had never been wrong before.

“You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanov,” Banner addressed her. “Want to know my secret to staying calm?”

As his hand gripped the sceptre, Natasha's hand instantly went for her gun, strapped to her right thigh. She was certain Fury had reached for his as well, and behind her, she could hear Thor shift in a fighting stance. On her peripheral vision, she noticed Stark unclasp his hands, presumably to make it easier for him to call his suit, using his bracelet. Rogers tensed his shoulders, and turned his body, so he was ready to charge.

“Doctor Banner,” he said, calmly. “Put down the sceptre.”

 


	3. Explosion

The look in Banner's eyes left Natasha a little breathless. Yes she was terrified. Being pinned to the metal decking by some heavy metal pipes, whilst the doctor change, wasn't her idea of a good time. Training to be the world's best assassin, hadn't prepared her for coming face to face with the Hulk, after all. But she also hadn't been prepared for Banner to lock eyes with her, mid transformation. And it was the doctor who had sought her gaze, his brown eyes were so apologetic, full of concern. At that moment, Natasha had realised that he was scared _for_ her, which sent a lead weight dropping straight to her stomach. So whilst the Hulk finished taking control of Banner, she managed to free her trapped foot as quickly and as quietly as possible, before she scrambled up and limped away. Natasha had barely made it to the staircase when the Hulk spotted her, and knowing that her injured ankle was only going to slow her down, she leapt up to the overhead platform, swinging up and over like she was a born carny... Clint would be proud. It hadn't been a moment too soon, as the green beast smashed the staircase, just seconds later. Primal fear coursed through Natasha' veins, over riding her imprinted training, because her extensive training had never covered this. So she swung and scampered away like a spider, her heart hammering in her chest, and her brain hoping against hope, that the Hulk couldn't smell her fear.

A few blessed seconds of pause, hunkered down behind a row of piping, allowed Natasha to get hold of her emotions, and she trampled down fear, like the irrational and unwanted baggage it was. Silently, she drew her gun from her thigh holster, and crept through the shadows. Her heart still beat wildly, but the rest of her body was back under Natasha's control, so when she came face to face with a roaring Hulk, she managed to not even flinch. Since Banner had admitted that bullets did nothing against the green monster, she aimed her gun slightly above the beast's head, before firing one calm and calculated shot. The hot steam from the overhead pipe, managed to disorient the Hulk long enough, for Natasha to begin hurrying away. It forced her to push passed the pain her obviously sprained ankle was causing, and soon Natasha was settled into a jaunty run, as she made her way through the narrow service corridor. She could hear the path of destruction the Hulk made behind her, and she almost frantically pushed forward, demanding her body be just that little bit quicker, that little bit more efficient. But it was all for nought, when the Hulk's meaty hand collided with her side, and the momentum sent Natasha literally flying. She collided with a nearby metal wall, hard. For a moment, she was dazed and winded, as she tried to shuffle herself into at least a seated position. She was certain she could add several broken ribs, to her probably now fractured ankle, and possible a bruised kidney as well. A small part of her brain was suddenly incredibly thankful, for the modifications that had been forced upon her... though that could be the concussion talking.

Natasha heard loud pounding steps draw nearer, and as she instinctively shuffled backwards, she blinked hazily upwards to meet the gaze of her attacker. She was not going to let her fear win. The Hulk growled, and raised his massive hand, ready to strike. But before the blow came down, the green beast was simply no longer there. It took her mind several seconds to realised she was no longer in immediate danger, which she probably had Thor to thank, since Stark and Rogers were trying to fix the helicarrier. Her rigid shoulders suddenly relaxed, then her body started to shake uncontrollably. There was a sharp pain in her abdomen, and after cautious exploration, she found it to be swelling. Internal bleeding. The tremors racking her body kicked up a notch, and Natasha was only vaguely aware she was going into shock.

 


	4. Impressed

Logically, if that was the right word for it, Natasha knew the Hulk was pretty indestructible. But after a fall of fifty thousand feet, she really hadn't expected to see Banner ride into the heart of a battle zone, like some proverbial white knight, on a banged up motorbike of all things. Natasha couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at his entrance, and shared a fleeting look with Clint, who's lips twitched in response. Following Rogers' lead, she approached Banner, only a little surprised that he was still... well... _Banner_. With all the death, destruction, and flying aliens surrounding them, Natasha was impressed that the Hulk hadn't made an appearance.

“So, this all seems... horrible,” he said, by way of greeting.

Natasha's lips threatened to quirk at the doctor's gallows humour, whilst Clint gave a snort of amusement. It was the first non-fatalistic thing he had done, since they had gotten him back, which meant she now had a debt to Banner. Filing that away for another time, Natasha took stock of the doctor's appearance. His greying black hair was flecked with dust, and the clothes he wore were several sizes too big. His shoulders were hunched, his posture was almost defensive, and his gaze barely made contact with any of them. For a brief moment, his warm brown eyes locked with hers, and the look he gave was so sheepish and earnest, that Natasha couldn't think of Banner as anything other than adorable... which was dangerous and stupid, considering his alter ego had tried to kill her.

“I've seen worse,” she said, deadpan.

“Sorry,” Banner replied, instantly.

He looked like such a kicked puppy as he said it, that Natasha was resigned to thinking of the doctor as 'adorable', at least for the foreseeable future. Though that hardly mattered right now, as it was obvious that the doctor had missed her own gallows humour. He seemed so genuinely apologetic, with his gaze downcast and hair threatening to fall into his eyes, that she decided to take pity on him... She blamed it on the adorableness.

“No, we could use...” Natasha paused, thinking how best word it. But nothing tactful came. “A little worse.”

Banner's eyes widened fractionally, and stared at her for several seconds, obviously in surprise. She supposed he'd expected her to either reject his apology, ignore him completely, or tell the Captain that he couldn't be trusted. But that couldn't be further than the truth. She wouldn't exactly be sharing her secrets with him, only Clint had that unfortunate privilege. However she did think the fact Banner had returned to a battle zone, on his own volition, was worthy of her respect... and perhaps just a little bit of trust. She was even more impressed, when he simply started to walk towards the 'party', that Stark was bringing their way.

“Ddddoctor Banner,” Rogers called after him, shocked. “Now might be a really good to get angry.”

Banner glanced over his shoulder, sparing Natasha another quick apologetic look, but kept walking. “That's my secret, Captain. I'm always angry.”

Watching his change, without having to fear for her life, was actually... kind of... impressive.

 


	5. Communication

Shawarma. Not exactly how Natasha had pictured their post battle celebration to go. Actually, she hadn't really expected any sort of celebration, herself and Clint usually did shots of vodka together, as soon as they'd debriefed after a mission. But this hadn't been an ordinary mission, and she wasn't surprised that despite the destruction, Stark had managed to find a restaurant that was still open. But still... Shawarma. Mixed meats roasted on a spit, shaved off, and served in a wrap. Not exactly haute cuisine. It reminded Natasha of the Doners that she had eaten with Clint, whilst on a mission in Ankara. But then again, it was Stark that suggested it, and it was Stark that had just flown a missile into a dimensional vortex, died, and been brought back by the Hulk yelling in his face. Even Natasha could agree that the billionaire deserved to be humoured, at least for the moment. So the six of them squeezed around on overloaded table, whilst the restaurant's proprietor continued to cook for them, and his wife diligently tried to sweep up the debris that littered the floor.

An almost comfortable silence had settled over them. To Natasha's right, Clint tiredly slumped in his chair, and picked at a bowl of chips and cheese, his lamb Shawarma long since finished. He looked worn and distant, but his leg propped up on her chair was reassuring and familiar. Natasha knew it was going to be a long road ahead for her best friend, but she would be there every step of the way with him. It's what they did. To her left, Rogers was already nodding off, his face propped up on his right fist, and a wrap still clasped in his left hand. Next to him, Thor was happily shovelling in his sixth severing of Shawarma... Natasha thought the current wrap was beef, but she'd lost track along the way. Beside him was Stark, who lounged in his chair and stared off into the middle distance, almost mechanically eating his mixed meat wrap. Not that she blamed him, she couldn't begin to figure out what he was thinking or feeling, despite reading people being the main premise of her job. Not that it really mattered right now, he wasn't a mark or a mission. It only bothered her, because she genuinely hoped he was alright, but was damned if she was actually going to show her concern. She'd likely never live it down.  
  
Finally, there was Banner. The doctor was steadily making his way through his third helping of rice and salad, with a second lot of fries. Natasha figured Hulking out must be hungry business. She also wasn't surprised that he didn't eat meat, though she was trying to figure out if it was a personal choice, or a habit from living in a prominently Hindu area of Calcutta for so long. At that moment, Banner looked up and caught her eye. A hint of a smile pulled at his lips, as he nodded to her food, a rather unimpressive chicken and salad on pita. She understood the silent question, and tilted her head a fraction to answer, before giving his food a pointed look, and raising her eyebrow. Banner smile widened slightly, seeming more genuine by the second, even as he shook his head and looked back down at his meal. Natasha bit back a smile, and continued eating. There were very few people she could have a silent conversation with... make that one person, who's foot was currently taking up most of her chair. She was a little surprised that she'd managed to do so with Banner, not that she'd even admit to being surprised by anything... unless it was Clint's kids trying to surprise her, that is. It only made her more intrigued about the mild mannered doctor. She wasn't sure that he'd stick around, now that the immediate danger was over, but Natasha actually found herself hoping he would.

 


	6. Home

Natasha groaned, as she pressed her forehead against the cold white marble surface of the kitchen work top. She wasn't entirely sure how Clint had talked her into this. Of course, she understood her best friend's reasoning, after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D, Natasha really didn't have anywhere else to go. Naturally, Clint had first offered for her to come lay low at his place, but she couldn't do that to him. Which was why she now found herself on the communal floor of Stark... no Avengers', tower. Because she had burned herself, exposed all of her covers and safe houses, simply because there was no other was to bring down Hydra, without bringing herself down right along with them. To be honest, with everything that was now out in the open about her, Natasha hadn't expected Stark to let her stay in the tower, which was more his home than his Malibu mansion was. But he had, without hesitation, even smugly informing her that he'd already had suite waiting for her. Though the word suite, didn't do it justice. Stark had given her an apartment, that took up a third of an _entire_ floor. The rest of the floor held an equal sized apartment for Clint, and a state of the art surveillance suite, that took up the remaining third. It had been too much. Much too much. Though she'd remained mostly stoic in front of Stark, thanking him calmly yet indulging him with a smirk, as he boasted about the top of the range equipment the 'Spy Floor' was enhanced with, Natasha had baulked the moment Stark had left. It really was too much, she had never had anything just _given_ to her... unless it was from Clint, and never on this scale. Stark, whether he knew it or not, was giving her a home. Some place safe, some place that was just for her. And it was too much, Natasha was not accustomed to random acts of generosity... she had barely seen Stark over the past two years, apart from attending the charity functions he hosted on a bi-yearly basis. It was overwhelming. So she ran away, not very far and not that she'd admit it. Only going to the common floor, that was comprised of a enormous lounge, and equally large games room. A state of the art gym and work out room, a room that was basically an indoor cinema, and a breathtakingly modern kitchen. Which was where Natasha now found herself.

“Doctor Banner is approaching your location, ms Romanov,” J.A.V.I.S. suddenly announced.

Natasha jerked upright at the AI's voice, and shifted the perch she had on the stool, whilst automatically dragging a nearby magazine towards her. She snorted when she realised that it was the latest copy of 'Forbes', with a photo of Stark adorning the front cover. Quickly, Natasha flipped through the glossy pages hoping to find a seemingly interesting article to back up her cover.

“Ms Potts' interview is on page ninety six, ms Romanov,” J.A.V.I.S. advised.  
  
The AI spoke, just as Banner rounded the corner into the kitchen, leaving Natasha without the opportunity to ask J.A.V.I.S. if the advise was based of it's own assessment and understanding of the situation, or if Stark had instructed the AI to do so. She also vaguely wondered if the AI had some sort of biometric sensor installed, or the like... and she wasn't sure what would be the most unnerving answer. Regardless, that was a problem for another time, because Natasha was currently confronted with an adorably dishevelled looking physicist. Banner blinked at her a little surprised, not that she blamed him, the last time they had seen each other was at Stark's Christmas Charity Ball, several months ago. Not to mention everything he could have read up on her by now, since it had been over a month from when she'd helped Steve bring S.H.I.E.L.D down. Natasha hated to admit it, but she felt ever so slightly nervous, as she met Banner's gaze. There was a _lot_ of red in her ledger.

“Tony nagged you to read it to?” he asked, smiling.

Banner nodded towards the article that the magazine was now open at, and just like that, the unseen tension melted out of Natasha's body. Very few people could have that affect on her, namely Clint. Which meant the good doctor was a part of a very rare breed of people. It was surprising, but also... nice. So perhaps for the first time ever, Natasha responded to his smile with a genuine one of her own.

 


	7. Drive

Banner had been running himself ragged in the labs, since his usual distraction... Stark, had jetted off to Monte Carlo with Pepper. Natasha had barely seen him at all during the first week, but by the second, when J.A.V.I.S. had politely informed her that 'Doctor Banner hasn't eaten in forty six hours', Natasha decided enough was enough. She had been about to leave to spend some time with Clint at the farm, but she couldn't go in good conscious... yes, she did have one of those... and leave Banner to his own devices. He might be a genius, but he couldn't look after himself at all. So after a quick check with her best friend, and a stealthy mission to retrieve some of the doctor's belongings from his room, Natasha had a very confused Banner sat in the passenger seat, whilst she drove her black Acura TL along the I-95 towards Maine. Sure, she could have probably borrowed one of Stark's jets, and been in Houlton within a few hours. But there was something about a road trip that appealed to Natasha. She wasn't on a mission, there was no impending doom, so she could just take her time and enjoy the nearly nine hours of driving. Besides, there was a pizzeria in Mystic that Clint had been taking her to, ever since she'd been officially recruited. Getting a 'Veggie Pizza Wrap' on the journey had become tradition, and Natasha was almost certain Banner would enjoy one too. So they drove for nearly two hours, enjoying the doctor's eclectic taste in music, before he broke the comfortable silence between them.  
  
“Since I'm guessing you're not driving me out to the wilderness to kill me, are you going to tell me where we're going?” the doctor asked.

“Safe house,” Natasha replied, cryptically.

Banner raised his eyebrows. “Something you're not telling me?”

The word 'again' hung between them for a heartbeat.  
  
“You got me,” she sighed. “Me and J.A.V.I.S. are conspiring against you. I'm going kick you out somewhere remote, to give the AI plenty of time to mess with whatever you're working on in the lab.”

“I knew it,” he smiled, almost hesitantly. “So where you kicking me out?"

“How do you feel about pizza?” Natasha asked.

“A little over rated, but pretty good with the right toppings,” Banner answered, without missing a beat.  
  
Natasha flashed him one of her rare, genuine smiles. It wasn't often people could keep up with her train of thought, she wasn't as bad as Stark, but she still liked keeping people on their toes. So it was nice being able to add Banner to the very short list, because even after working with Steve for two years, the captain often got derailed by her thought processes. Clint, and worryingly Stark, were the only ones that could really keep up, Fury and Hill had been close seconds, before the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D.  
  
“There's a place in Mystic, it's pretty good,” Natasha replied.  
  
“But that's not our destination,” the doctor said, matter-of-fact.  
  
She grinned at him. “It's a pit stop.”  
  
“So the safe house...?”  
  
“Is Clint's,” Natasha supplied, glibly.

Banner chuckled. “So 'Team Spy' is kidnapping me?”

“Something like that.”

 


	8. Friends

Nearly nine hours after leaving New York, Natasha pulled off the I-95, and turned down a bumpy narrow lane. The car barely fit, the wing mirrors nearly touching the flaking wooden fences on either side, and out the corner of her eye, she notice Banner avidly taking in the surrounding countryside. Ten minutes later, they pulled up outside a whitewashed farm house with teal shutters, and chickens scratching around the yard. As Natasha expected, the whole family had gathered to greet them, and Banner shot her a confused look. However, all she could do was chuckle, as soon as she caught sight of her best friend. Clint had gone so far with his country look, that he was wearing a black Stetson. Granted, it was offset by a black tee and subtly striped black trousers, so he didn't look like a complete farmer... yet. As Natasha and Banner got out the car, she grabbed a package from the back seat, and chucked it at her best friend. Even though she couldn't see his reaction, she could well imagine Clint's smirk, as he unwrapped the grey checked shirt she'd bought him. However, at that exact moment, she was too preoccupied by the armful of laughing children she had. Not to mention the overly excited Labrador that was bounding around them.

“Auntie Nat! Auntie Nat!” Lila squealed.   
  
“Hi Auntie Nat,” Cooper grinned.  
  
“Hey guys,” she smiled, hugging them both.

“Kids, go clean up for dinner,” Laura called.  
  
Natasha stood to greet her friend, careful not to squeeze to pregnant woman too tightly when they hugged. She released Laura, before being swept up in one of Clint's bear hugs. Even though she wouldn't outright admit it, Natasha had missed her best friend, he was the only constant she'd ever had in her life. And though she was glad he was taking extended leave after Loki, she couldn't wait to have her partner back. A quiet cough from behind them, called Natasha's attention back to Banner. She glanced over her shoulder, and smirked at his surprised expression. She knew most people thought her cold and ruthless, but there was another side to the Black Widow. But it was only at Clint's farm that she felt safe enough to show it. The fact that she was willing to show Banner that side... well, Natasha didn't really want to think about it. Of course, that was the exact moment that Laura began to usher the doctor into the house, leaving her alone with her best friend.  
  
“So... Bruce, really?” he grinned. “Never saw that coming.”

“Shut it, sparrow,” Natasha grumbled.

Clint laughed. “Name calling, really Tash? What are you, five?”

She rolled her eyes. “There's nothing going on between me and Banner.”

“Never said there was,” he retorted. “But you like him.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Natasha took a moment to consider it. When she really thought about it... really considered all the times Bruce had made her smile, all the times she had thought him interesting, cute or adorable... Wait, when had she started thinking of him as Bruce and not Banner. Natasha sighed, and leant against the hood of the car. Even though she hated to admit, Clint was probably right... he had a habit of doing that. Seeing things before she did, not that it surprised her really. He wasn't called Hawkeye for noting. But the fact that she liked Bruce, more than a friend... which was already a novel notion for her, Natasha really hadn't seen that coming.  
  
“Shit!”

Clint laughed again, and threw an arm around her shoulders. “Don't worry Tash, I won't tell a soul.”  
  
“You better not, bird brain!” she snarked.

“I promise. Even if Laura asks, I'll deny it,” he promised.

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Guard

Manning the wheel of a stolen military jeep, while Clint stood rapidly firing arrows at anyone stupid enough to try and attack them, was oddly nostalgic for Natasha. Their early partnership had often consisted of missions like this, the only real difference was they had a minimum of four other people to watch their backs, which included the Hulk, who bounded almost merrily alongside them. Ditching the jeep, Clint ran to the left, Natasha to the right, whilst the big guy ploughed through the middle of the enemy barricade. She leapt, easily downing one guard with a solid punch to the jaw. Natasha landed lightly, tucking into a roll, before pouncing upon two more Hydra goons. The went down without effort, as did the guard manning the artillery gun. A further two enemy soldiers fell from the hill above her, a single arrow embedded in each of their jugulars.

“At long last, is lasting a little long boys,” she quipped, answering Thor through the comm.

“Yeah... and I think we lost the element of surprise,” Clint retorted.

The fight was going relatively well, until her partner was downed by an automated turret. Natasha yelled his name, before rushing to the archer's side. The snow beneath him was already stained red, but he thankfully opened his eyes, when she gentle touched his face. After muttering an apology, she dragged him behind a small clump of trees, all the while dodging shots from the turret.

“Someone want to deal with that bunker?” she grit out.

Without waiting for a response, Natasha crouched over Clint, and pulled an Xstat pen from her utility belt. Stark's latest invention had seemed impressive on paper, but this was going to be it's first real field test... she just hoped the dozen or so micro sponges, would seal up the gaping wound in her best friend's side. Clint grunted in pain, as she dispensed the pain, but the sound was drowned by a roar from the Hulk. The ground shook as the big guy thundered into the clearing, before charging at the turret. The bunker crumbled in a cloud of concrete dust, and the Hulk took out the remaining guards just as effortlessly.

“Thank you,” she called.

Clint's lips twitched it a slight smirk, before he gave a sudden hiss of pain. The Xstat seemed to have stopped the bleeding, but the wound was too exposed, and Natasha quickly pressed on some combat gauze, being as gentle as could. In a moment of sentimentality, she stroked his cheek reassuringly, before fishing out what looked like an epi-pen from another one of her utility pouches. She showed it to Clint, who blinked his agreement, then injected the ketamine into the side of his neck. Just as she withdrew the needle, the Hulk lumbered over to them before grunting at Natasha. She smiled at the big guy, who seemed intent to stand guard, at least until extraction arrived.

“Clint's hit pretty bad guys. We need evac,” she stated over the comm.

At Thor's acknowledgement, Natasha sat back on her haunches. Silently, she gathered Clint's right hand in hers, before she leant back against the Hulk's huge leg. The big guy huffed at Natasha, his breath ruffling her hair, but did nothing to try and move her. She smiled to herself, as her best friend caught her eye. Natasha raised an eyebrow when Clint pulled what Leila called a 'kissy face'. Under normal circumstances, she'd have smacked the archer upside the head, but since he was already sky high on pain relief, she decided to let it slide.

 


	10. Raise

The flight back to Avengers Tower wasn't as fraught as it could have be. Yes, Clint was still seriously injured, but Rogers had managed to bandage the wound more thoroughly, whilst Natasha had hooked her best friend up to an IV of saline and glucose. She couldn't help chuckling, when Clint muttered something about 'pretty lights', and she was sure the ketamine was doing it's job. Doctor Helen Cho was currently on route to headquarters, with the kit to help Clint. Stark was piloting the Jet, whilst Thor was content to stand guard of the sceptre that they'd finally retrieved, and 'Casta Diva' could be quietly heard coming from Bruce's headphones. Confident that Rogers could look after her best friend, Natasha patted the archer's hand reassuringly, before approaching the doctor.

“Hey. The lullaby worked better than ever,” she smiled.

It was the first time they had used what Stark had dubbed 'the lullaby' out on a mission. It had all stemmed from their stay at the Clint's farm, when they'd discovered that the bedtime stories or songs that Natasha and Laura would read or sing to the kids, never failed to put Bruce to sleep as well. It had been Clint's idea to see if it'd calm the doctor down after a visit from the Hulk, and they'd first tested the theory out in one of his corn fields, before presenting the solution to the rest of the team. Rogers had been wary, though Stark and Thor had given their full support without hesitation. So when they'd had to call in the Hulk, Natasha was more than happy to field test the lullaby. Though she wasn't so sure Bruce felt the same. He first nodded, then shook his head, avoiding Natasha's eye as she sat across from him. He look exhausted, and actually, a little fragile. Once onboard the Jet, he'd quickly helped to stabilise Clint, before changing into a soft cotton long sleeve, some sweat pants, and a pair of cosy sock. Since then, Bruce had stayed huddle up in the darkest corner of the cabin. If Natasha was being honest with herself, he looked like he needed a hug.

“Just wasn't expecting the code green,” he sighed.

Natasha's smile threatened to morph into a smirk, as she resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She _knew_ that look. It was his: I'm a terrible person and all I do is hurt people, look. Natasha could relate to a certain extent, she'd been a mess for several years after Clint saved her... but she'd _had_ Clint to help bring her round, to help her understand that despite there'd in her ledger, she was doing good. That there was more to her than a monster that killed... she doubted Bruce had ever had that support, and Natasha found that she genuinely wanted to help him.

“If you hadn't been there, we'd have been double the casualties.”

She gave Bruce a pointed look. If it hadn't been for the Hulk, Natasha was positive that the turret would have gotten her next, since emotion had overruled logic, and she hadn't even attempted to neutralise the hostiles before rushing to Clint's side. Bruce finally met Natasha's eyes, and he have gave her a tiny, almost embarrassed smile, before looking away again. If she allowed herself to think about it, Natasha had to admit that the smile lines by Bruce's eyes, and the way his forehead wrinkled, was actually kind of adorable.

“My best friend would have been a... treasured memory,” she continued, trying not to wince at how her breathing had just stuttered.

“You know sometimes... _exactly_ what I want to hear, isn't exactly what I want to hear,” Bruce replied, glancing at her.

Natasha smiled, allowing some of her genuine affection for him show through, before quickly packing it away again. “How long before you trust me?”

The doctor shook his head. “It isn't you I don't trust.”

For some reason, that made Natasha's heart beat just a little bit faster, and it washer turn to break eye contact. An almost bashful smile wanted to settle on her lips, though she fought to... stupid damn emotions. She blamed Clint for this.

 


	11. Flirt

The party was in full swing. Stark, Thor, and surprisingly Rogers were in their element. The billionaire was shooting pool with Sam, trying to convince the Falcon to let him upgrade the wings, whilst the other two swapped war stories with some of Rogers old war buddies... emphasis on the old. Clint and Helen were chatting together with Hill, whilst Natasha caught up with Rhodey. Out the corner of her eye, she noticed Bruce weaving between the crowds of people, looking extremely uncomfortable, with his hands firmly in this suit's pockets. Once again, he looked annoyingly adorable. When the party began to wind down, Natasha left Rhodey playing a game of 'one-upmanship' with Stark and Thor, and wandered over to the now deserted bar. Rogers was off somewhere chatting to Sam, whilst Hill kicked Clint's butt on the pool table, with Helen looking on. Bruce was nowhere in sight.

After smoothing out the rumples from her black and white cocktail dress, Natasha set about making herself a Ginger Cosmo... she mixed from memory. Three parts vodka, two parts cranberry juice, one part lime juice, one part triple sec, and four pieces of ginger. Just as she was pouring the vivid red liquid into a Martini class, the background music switched to some laid back jazz, and Bruce walked up to the bar. He seemed a little hesitant, as he removed his glasses and leant on the black marble counter. However he gave a small smile, one that was a little nervous but quite adorable, and Natasha couldn't but smile back... stupid emotions.

“How'd a nice girl like you, end up working in a dump like this?”

Natasha chuckled under her breath. Bruce's impression of Bogart was pretty awful, but it brought back pleasant memories of them lounging on Clint's sofa, their last night at the farm, watching Casablanca. It had been nice to discover she had someone to share her love of old movies with, since her best friend teased her about it relentlessly. Trying to hide her smile, Natasha set about mixing Bruce a Midori Sour. She wasn't sure if he'd like the taste, but hopefully she'd get a chuckle because of it's vibrant green colour. Once poured, Natasha struck the most femme fatale pose she could, before sliding the glass over to him.

“Fella done me wrong,” she pouted.

“You got a lousy taste in men, kid,” Bruce replied, is accent still atrocious.

“Oh... he's not so bad,” she demurred. “He has a temper. Deep down... he's all fluff.”

Natasha wouldn't have needed to be top class spy to see the look of absolute shock that flickered across Bruce's face. But because she was a top class spy, she wasn't entirely sure why she'd just said what she did. Sure, she'd admitted to herself... and unfortunately Clint, that she was somewhat interested in Bruce, but she'd never intended to act on it. Though now that it was sort of out in the open, Natasha decided to run with it. He'd been the one to start this silly little roleplay, so if he wanted nothing more than friendship, it'd be easy to brush everything off as being in character. She took a moment to consider her words, it'd be ease to play the femme fatal, but for a change, Natasha decided to be honest... It was actually a little daunting, but she figured she had the roleplay and the cliché jazz to hide behind, if more than her ego got bruised.

“The fact is, he's not like anyone I've ever known,” she said.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. They just regarded each other over the rim of their respective drinks, as they each took a ship. And for some reason, Natasha felt her temperature spike, when she noticed the corner of Banner's mouth quirk into a tiny smile. The logical part of her mind screamed that this... _situation_ was ridiculous. Bruce was just a man... an adorable, sweet, kind, funny, intelligent, attentive man with understated good looks... but he was _just_ a man. She'd found men attractive before, plenty of men, even a couple of women as well. Natasha fought back a sigh, silently cursing Clint. She couldn't fool herself anymore, and she blamed the archer entirely. Yes, she'd been attracted to people plenty of times, acted on it most of the time as well. But this was... different, and Natasha wondered if she should perhaps talk to Laura, despite swearing Clint to secrecy. She suddenly felt the urge to smack her head against the nearest hard surface, she was acting like a twelve year old. And despite her training, some of her inner turmoil broke through, and Natasha felt her upper lip twitch in annoyance. Then again, she'd gone this far... she might as well lay all her cards on the table.

“All my friends are fighters,” she continued. “Then here comes this guy... spends his life avoiding the fight, because he knows he'll win.”

There was a heartbeat when Bruce simply stared at her, before quickly reaching for his drink. “Sounds amazing.”

“He's also a huge dork,” Natasha added, smirking.

She couldn't help it, the mushiness had gone on long enough. It left her feeling too... vulnerable, and she silently cursed again. Not long after the battle of New York, Clint had accused her of being worryingly similar to Stark. Of course, Natasha had vehemently protested, until the archer had held up his prime example... her complete inability to say anything sentimental or heartfelt, without having to cover it up with a quip or a sassy one-liner. She'd still denied it at the time, but right at that moment, Natasha could clearer see what Clint meant... and she was determined to wring his neck for it later. Luckily, the way Bruce spluttered into his glass pulled Natasha out of her musing. She desperately wanted to smirk at him, though since his embarrassed and apologetic smile was so adorable, Natasha settled for raising both her eyebrows at him instead. Bruce tilted his head in acceptance, her smile turning a little self-depreciating.

“Chicks dig that,” she assured, trying not to chuckle.

Bruce opened his mouth as if to speak, before closing it again. He stared at her for a moment, looking at a total loss. Though he seemed more baffled by her interest, instead of opposed to it. Which was... promising. She began to calculate her odds.

“So, what do you think?” Natasha asked, slipping back into her character again. “Should I fight this, or run with it?”

“Ruuuun with it, right?” he replied quickly, his eyes darting between hers. “Or did he... was he... what did he do that... was so... wrong, to you.”

It was so tempting to fall back into the act, to be the femme fatal. It would be easy for her, a sure way to protect her emotions, but Natasha just... couldn't. It was obvious where Bruce mind had gone. For the most part, they'd moved beyond the incident on the helicarrier. As far as Natasha was concerned, it wasn't even an issue. If she held grudges against _everyone_ who had tried to kill her, she'd certainly be missing a best friend. However, it was moments like this, that she was all to aware that Bruce wasn't as at peace with their past, as her tried to appear. Natasha had told him on more than one occasion, that she didn't hold it against him, though stopped short of pointing out that her _best friend_ had attacked her not long after. Natasha had thought they'd really put the incident behind them, after staying at Clint's farm, but that was obviously not the case. Sensing that words alone wouldn't help right now, she lay her hand gently over Bruce's wrist.

“Not a damn thing,” she assured.

Bruce looked relieved, quickly glancing down to where she touched him, before his gaze snapped back to her eyes. Natasha squeezed his wrist reassuringly, before pulling away. She collected her drink, and perhaps put a little more sway into her steps than was necessary, as she walked around the back.

“But never say never,” she added, her voice purring, before strutting away.

 

 

 


	12. Lift

Four AM had come and gone. The only ones left were the the team, along with Helen, Hill, Rhodey and Sam. Pretty much everyone had a good buzz going. Thor and Steve sprawled on one sofa, passing the demigod's flask back and forth between them. Hill, Helen and Sam were playing cards, whilst Bruce sat next to Natasha, occasionally sipping a beer. For her part, Natasha was still locked in a drinking contest with Stark, one that Rhodey and Clint had quickly conceded. She had to admit, she was rather impressed with the inventor's staying power, very few could match a Russia drink for drink, especially when the poison of choice was straight vodka. As she picked up her refilled glass, Rogers announce with a slightly slurred voice, that it was shot number nineteen. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha noticed that Clint was spinning a drumstick between his fingers... a silently reminder why she was acting like a teenager. She wasn't exactly sure how the stakes of the match had been decided, but Natasha was certain that if she won, Stark had to accompany her and Pepper to a Bolshoi performance of Swan Lake. If she lost, Natasha had some how agreed to sing for them, as long as Clint provided the beat. The archer was actually a very good drummer, and whether it was big headed or not, Natasha knew she could sing. They'd had to learn for a mission back in ninety three, and had never bothered to drop the skills. Shots nineteen through to twenty three were downed, and as she picked up her glass once more, Natasha smirked at Stark, who was starting to sweat. She didn't get to down the shot, because Clint had seemingly been drawn into Rogers and Thor's conversation, and the three of them were hotly debating Mjölnir Clint was adamant it was all a trick, his early life as a carnie made him suspicious of anything that seemed like an illusion. When Thor offered him the chance to try lift the hammer, Stark had quickly jumped on the band wagon.

So whilst Clint, Stark and even Rhodey simultaneously tried to lift Mjölnir, Natasha demurely sipped on her glass of vodka. Bruce caught her eye and gave her a tentative smile, before inclining his head towards her drink. She smirked back, glad someone had noticed she'd won the match. Stark would have argued with her, but he'd accept it if his 'science bro' backed her up. Natasha's attention snapped back to the new competition, as Clint collapsed on the floor giggling uncontrollably.

“I still don't know how you do it man!” he laughed, a little out of breath.

Stark and Rhodey eventually gave up, when even their gauntlets didn't provide enough strength. Both Hill and Helen declined a go. Sam only agreed to try if Bruce did as well, and neither had any luck. When Rogers tried, he actually managed to shift Mjölnir perhaps a millimetre, until he too conceded defeat.

“How can you be _almost_ worthy?” Helen asked, tipsily.

“I have a feeling I'd have actually managed, before the serum,” Rogers admitted, smiling.

Natasha nodded her agreement. From what he'd told him herself, coupled with what was in his file, she understood the captain had change. Not just in the obvious physical sense, but on a more profound one. War changed people, losing someone you loved change people... seeing someone come back from the dead and try to kill you, changed people. It wasn't hard to believe that Rogers was no longer the idealist young man who had simply wanted to make the world a better place. She'd imagined the show of testosterone had ended, until they all turned to look at her. Taking a sip of beer that she'd acquired from Bruce, Natasha leant back in the chair she sat on, briefly regarding the hammer.

“Ma'am?” Rogers inquired.

“Oh... no, no, no. That's not a question I need an answered.”

For a few minutes, the guys continued to debate how Thor controlled Mjölnir. Clint, who was still sprawled on the floor, kept insisting it was a trick. While Rhodey, Helen and Stark tried to apply science and technology to the problem. Eventually, the billionaire decided it had something to do with Thor's finger prints, which only made the demigod chuckle.

“I have a simpler idea... you're all not worthy,” he boasted.

Clint burst out laughing. “When I first saw you, you were nearly crying like a baby, because you couldn't lift it either.”

Thor nodded to accept the point, though abruptly stood to pick up Mjölnir. He flipped the hammer one handed, as if it weighed nothing more than a common spatula. Natasha chuckled when everyone else groaned, though she wasn't entirely sure if it was Thor's cockiness that amused her so much, or the fact that Rogers had just slipped off the sofa from laughing to much. Whilst Thor continued to boast, Clint nudged Natasha's foot meaningfully. She raised an eyebrow in question, though ended up smirking when Bruce was the one to nod in the demigod's direction. If it wasn't for the doctor's encouraging smile, Natasha would have probably ignored them both. As it was, she begrudgingly accepted she was falling for Bruce's stupid adorable smile. So rolling her eyes as she stood, Natasha silently walked up behind Thor, before suddenly wrapping her arms around his waist. He stiffened slightly, since she was hardly a tactile person, before Natasha lifted him clear off the floor. It took more effort than Natasha would have liked, but she hid it behind a cool mask, before she set Thor back on his feet.

“Does that count?” she asked, sweetly.

 

 

 


	13. Suffer

A lot of what happened next was a complete blur for Natasha. She could mostly remember that a robot... Ultron? crashed their party and abducted Helen. She thought the team had then travelled to a dry dock near the Dormac Marine in Johannesburg. Natasha couldn't recall much after that... someone with silver hair that moved like the wind perhaps, a girl shrouded in red... was there a code green? She just couldn't think... until the memories had come. Memories that had long since been dealt with, suppressed or forgot, had bubbled to the surface of her mind. Memories she'd tried to hide from and bury, with one night stands, self harm, copious amounts of alcohol, prescription drugs, and too many long nights howling into her pillow whilst Clint held her tightly. Memories that she'd spend years in therapy to accept and overcome... counselling, cognitive behavioural therapy, voluntary electric shock treatment, even hypnotherapy for crying out loud.

Natasha woke slowly. Something cold and metal squashed her cheek uncomfortably, her left foot and knee had gone a little numb, her back and neck twisted in such a way, that she was sure she'd be paying for it sooner rather than later. She kept her eyes tightly screwed shut, knowing that the sunlight she could feel warming her face, was only going to make her raging migraine impossibly worse. Suddenly, calloused fingers began to gently run through her hair. Starting from her forehead, running across her scalp, and very lightly squeezing once they reached the nape of her neck. Natasha gave an unguarded sigh of appreciation, before breathing in the unmistakable smell of Old Spice. Despite the fact that her brain felt like it had been put through a blender, the scent calmed her raging mind... there was only one person she knew who wore that aftershave; Clint.

Still dazed, Natasha pushed herself upright, barely realising she sat in the jet's co-pilot chair. Keeping her movements slow, lest she aggravated her pounding head, she sluggishly glanced back into the cabin. The rest of the team looked like... shit, really. Exactly how she felt, actually. Clint and Tony had seemed to come out of whatever had happened the least scathed, whilst Bruce looked an absolute mess, sweating heavily and wrapped in a blanket. He barely met her her eye, when her gaze roved over him, before he turned his head away. _Something_ tugged inside her, but she was too world weary to really notice. Natasha rolled her own head against the back rest for a moment, then stared out of the window. Several long minutes passed her by, before she realised they were flying over a patchwork of farm fields, though it took longer than Natasha cared to a admit, to figure out what Clint was planning to do. She sat up quickly, grunting in pain as her head rattled in protest, and glared at her best friend. She couldn't believe he was doing this. The situation must have been _much_ worse than she thought. She could have screamed at the archer, kicked his ass from here to Timbuktu... but since he was flying the jet, and her head throbbed with pain, Natasha settled for signing at him furiously. He was such an idiot.

Cautiously, she peered around the co-pilots chair, in order to assess the rest of the team. They looked, not putting too fine a point on it... well... shit. Rogers and Thor both looked like they'd seen ghosts, Tony looked worried to death, and when Natasha caught sight of Bruce, she understood why. Banner did not look good. Pale, shivering, with a sheen of sweat covering his face, neck, and what Natasha could see of his torso. Normally, she'd pay sublet attention to his torso. Sure, he wasn't as muscled and defined as Rogers or Thor, who weight lifts. Nor as lean and toned as Clint and Stark, who trained in various martial arts. But Natasha rather preferred that. She liked that he was... normal, she supposed. Instead of hard muscle, he was softer, not fat by any means, but... average. Dark hair covered his chest and led down to his abdomen, to the very slight hint of a stomach, that gave away his love of authentic Indian curries, that his dedicated Yoga routine couldn't hide. Natasha supposed some might call it a 'dad bod', all she was certain was that she found Bruce's body very appealing, sexy even... at least usually. Now though, when she looked at his half naked form, all she felt was worry for him. Despite all her own problems, how her head pounded and her memories swirled in a nauseous jumble, when she looked at him, she just wanted to give him a hug. And thinking about a hug, made Natasha realise how much she wanted one herself. Hopefully, Clint would be more than willing to oblige, once they got settled at his farm... the idiot.

 

 


	14. Hurt

Natasha had still been in a daze when Clint had help her strip from her combat gear, before swaddling her in the soft grey robe he'd bought her their last anniversary... since they chose to celebrate their partnership, because she wasn't sure when her birthday was, and it was a much more meaningful date to her anyway. Now she almost sprawled on the spare rooms double bed, waiting for Bruce to finish up in the small en-suite. Natasha wasn't sure why they were sharing, not that she was complaining, and not just because she liked Bruce. Despite her best efforts to bottle everything back up, she felt like she had after first joining S.H.I.E.L.D... a little lost and very confused, which meant the last thing she needed was time alone to think. Dwelling on the memories that had been dragged up, ones that Natasha thought Clint had helped lay to rest years ago... with a lot of talking, a lot of drinking, and a lot of shooting things at the firing range... was not going to help anyone. So she was glad she was sharing with Bruce, though she couldn't decide it was her best friend's idea or Laura's... oddly, she found she didn't mind either way. Maybe some quality time with Bruce was what she... they, needed. Because Natasha could only imagine how he was feeling, and if she was going to 'run' with her attraction to him, she supposed she had to be there for him too. It's what Laura did for Clint. And if she though about it, what Pepper did for Tony. They were the only two real couples Natasha actually knew, and there were worse roll models than those two women. Of course, as she mused, Bruce exited the bathroom. The creek of the door startled Natasha out of her reverie, she looked up to see his freshly shaven, and wet hair that was already trying to curl. A tiny smile pulled at her lips, as she stood up, towels in hand.

“I didn't...ah... realise you were waiting,” he stammered.

“I would have joined you, but...” Natasha inwardly cringed at her false flirty tone. “It didn't seem like the right time.” 

“They'd... ah... used up all the hot water.”

As Bruce spoke, looking sheepish, he finished up rubbing his chest dry. The lowering of the towel, let Natasha see the way his skin pebbled in testament to his words. There were worse things than cold showers, but the water on Clint's farm was frigid was the hot tank was empty, and after what had happen at the shipyard, it wasn't an experience Natasha relished.

“I should have joined you,” she tried again.

“Missed our window.”

“Did we?” she asked, quietly.

For reasons unbeknownst to her, and despite the shy smile and small shrug Bruce had gave, real fear gripped Natasha at his words. Even as her stomach dropped, she knew she was being stupid. The Black Widow had never needed a man before... except Clint, but he didn't count. Then again, since meeting Clint, nothing had been the same. Since coming to America, she'd thrown herself into working for S.H.I.E.L.D. but after realising that was all a lie, just being an agent hadn't been good enough. So she'd stopped trying to deny that she was fond of Bruce, not just attracted to him. Natasha had figured, if all she ever did was work, she was still just what the Red Room had made her... a tool, a weapon. The Black Widow had never needed a man, but she wasn't just the Black Widow anymore. She was Natasha, and even if she didn't need a man, she wanted one. One in particular at least. Clint had taught her how to be a person and then a friend, and as cliché as it was, she wanted the man in front of her to teach her how to be lover... a girlfriend even, instead of a 'one night stand' kind of woman. Natasha fought the urge to shut her eyes and sigh. Even to herself, she was starting to sound like one of the heroines, from the terrible romance novels Laura loved to read... but at least it was just to herself, she supposed. Maybe it was just the after effects of what ever that little witch had done to her, that was making her so pathetic and vulnerable. Though as cringe worth as her inner monologue was being, Natasha did care about Bruce, and she did genuinely want to try and make a go of whatever was between them, despite... or maybe because, of everything that had happened.

“The world just... saw the Hulk, the real Hulk, for the first time,” Bruce stated. “You know I have to leave.”

“You assume that I have to stay?”

Bruce paused with the shirt he was putting on, one of Clint's beloved plaid monstrosities, half way to his shoulders. He looked confused, stunned, and though it was hard to notice, there was a flicker of hope in his deep brown eyes.

“I had this, um... dream,” Natasha continued. “The kind that seems normal at the time. But when you wake...”

“What did you dream?”

She debated telling him the truth, he deserved to know... had a right to know, if they were going to at least try to be something to each other, she supposed. But the only person who knew everything, or as much as Natasha remembered herself, was Clint. But that hadn't happened until years into their friendship, when he was still reeling from his newly suffered hearing loss, when he was lost and vulnerable and shutting everyone out. She'd offered up her sordid past to try and get Clint to understand the debt she owed him, and assure him that she wasn't about to run away and make him face the devastation on his own. In return, he'd opened up and revealed his past as a carnie. That was how their friendship worked, she supposed, a trade of vulnerability, a trade of support. It perhaps wasn't the healthiest bases of a friendship, but it worked for them. However, she didn't think that would work for Bruce. For better of worse, Natasha had read his files, she knew about his childhood... his father and his mother's death. If anything, Bruce would probably end up feeling guilty about a situation he had no control over. It was what he did. He cared too much, and Natasha doubted it would help his current mental state, but she wasn't going to outright lie to him either. She certainly owed him that much.

“That I was an Avenger. That I was anything more than the assassin they made me.”

“I think you're being hard on yourself,” he replied.

He'd walked towards her as he spoke, even going so far as to tentatively touch her elbows, as if he wanted to pull her into a hug, but he seemed to think better of it. For her part, Natasha felt compelled to step into his embrace. She'd never been much of a tactile person, but since meeting Clint... then becoming part of his ever growing family, Natasha had learnt she really liked hugs. And though she was new to this whole relationship thing, she thought that a hug might be good, that it might help. It seemed like something Laura would do right now, and the heavily pregnant brunette was the only role model Natasha had to go off. Of course she respected Pepper, but the CEO wasn't Laura Barton, that woman oozed comfort and happiness like she was made of sunshine... and Natasha had no idea how she did it. But hugs seemed to be a big part of it, and she really didn't mind that.

“Here I was, hoping that was your job,” she teased, gently.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked, sounding hesitant and confused.

“I'm running with it.”  
  
Uncharacteristic nerves made Natasha's heart beat a little faster. She reached up to cup his cheek, and bit back a smile when Bruce leant into the gesture, almost subconsciously. Despite the cold wash he'd not long had, he was surprising hot to the touch. The fingers on her other hand twitched to scratch at the hair on his chest, to feel his heartbeat, but she resisted. Choosing instead to lightly rest on his hip, her thumb curling into a belt loop of it's own accord.  
  
“With you,” she added, for good measure.  
  
Bruce's brow furrowed, and he gripped hold of her hand, gently pulling it away from his face. Natasha searched his eyes, seeing the _want_ clearly, but also the fear and hesitation. He was scared. Not because of her reputation, but because he was convinced he'd hurt her. She knew even on the best of days, all Bruce thought of himself as a vessel for a volatile monster that could escape at any moment. She imagined the self-loathing had magnified tenfold, at least. Even though he hadn't lost control of the Hulk, having been manipulated by that little witch, Natasha knew Bruce blamed himself... that all the hard work to get him to accept himself over the years, since forming the Avengers, was now redundant. But that didn't mean she wasn't going to make him see sense. It's what a good girlfriend did, wasn't it?  
  
“If running's the plan, we'll go as far as you want,” she promised.

“Are you out of your mind?” he whispered.

Natasha had expected his reply, expected the hurt and defeated in Bruce's voice, but it still oddly hurt. Watching him walk away from her, even if it was just across the room, was actually really painful, and she hadn't factored in for something so mundane to _hurt_. It also hurt to see Bruce looking so lost and confused. He looked how she felt, if Natasha was being honest. And she finally understood why Laura had looked so heartbroken whenever she'd looked at Clint, just after his hearing loss had been diagnosed as permanent. It physically hurt to see someone you care about so... destroyed. Without really understanding why, Natasha just wanted to make it right.

“I want you to understand that I... um...”

“Natasha. Where can I go?” he interrupted. “Where in the world am I not a threat?”

“You're not a threat to me?” she assured.

“You sure? Even if I didn't just...” He swallowed audibly. “You've no future with me.”

Despite the urge to pull Bruce into her arms, Natasha stopped midway to where he stood, and considered him. She hadn't been boastful in her assurance. Sure, there was the incident on the helicarrier, but they'd moved passed that. Looking back, apart from the Hulk being triggered because Bruce had been hurt in the fall, it was reasonable to expect that seeing her trapped and vulnerable would be a trigger for the Hulk. According to his records, Bruce had witnessed his mother's death at the hands of his own father, and had gone berserk at Culver, when he thought that Betty had been in danger. Natasha often wondered that if perhaps she hadn't run, the Hulk wouldn't have rampaged after her... not that it matters. Especially since then, they'd developed the Lullaby. They'd learnt to trust each other, both Natasha and Bruce, as well as Natasha and the Hulk. She knew the Hulk wouldn't harm her, and she wanted to tell him all that and more, but she held her tongue. There was a rigidness to Bruce's posture, and a pleading look in his eyes, that let Natasha know he _needed_ to say whatever he was about to say... even if it was for his own conscious.

“I can't ever...” He gestured around the room. “I... I can't have _this_... kids. Do the maths, I physically can't.”

“Neither can I.”

Her quiet reply stopped Bruce dead. He looked dumbfounded. The words had slipped out, almost of their own accord, but whether she liked it or not, Natasha knew they needed to be said. However, she still hadn't intended to explain things quite so bluntly, so she tried again:

“In the Red Room, we I was... trained.”

She paused, swallowing thickly. If she was going to tell Bruce, if she was going to really let him in, he deserved the whole truth. To her alarm, Natasha realised she was actually rather close to tears. In the past ten years, she'd only shed tears for Coulson and Fury, and only ever in private... even Clint hadn't seen her cry. She hadn't expected the emotions to bubble up so much, and chalked it to the witch's meddling. When she'd told Clint about her past, she'd explained it monotonously, almost robotically. Of course he'd seen through her, and practically pulled her onto his lap for a bone crunching squeeze, but that was besides the point... Natasha was better than this. She could dampen down her emotions, she could bottle it up until she could run and hide, until she could go lick her wounds and cry in solitude... expect it wasn't working.  
  
“Where I was raised,” she continued, hesitantly. “Um... they have a graduation ceremony. They sterilise you. It's efficient. One less thing to worry about. The one thing that might matter more than a mission. Makes everything easier. Even killing.”

Natasha despised how her voice had cracked throughout her explanation, and how tears had formed in the corner of her eyes. They threatened to fall, but she'd be damned if let a single one roll down her cheek. She was _bette_ r than that. Natasha had truly thought she'd dealt with her feelings about the sterilisation, could even accept that she'd be the worst person to be a mother, despite how much she loved the Barton children. She was a killer, a monster, no child deserved that. But then again, it had been a long time since she truly thought of herself as a monster. The only thing Natasha could subscribe it to was the little red witch. Memories that had been buried for years had been dragged to the surface, it wasn't unreasonable to believe that emotions had been pulled along with them. Bruce, for his part, looked devastated. Natasha watched as he swallowed audibly, and saw the myriad of emotions that flashed across his eyes... concern, sorrow, anger... but thankfully never pity. She didn't think she could handle pity.

“You still think your the only monster on the team?” she deflected.

It had meant to be a joke, but it fell flat, and they both knew it. Bruce opened his mouth as if to speak, and Natasha braced herself for the sympathy that would surely follow. She didn't want sympathy, she didn't want pity. She couldn't handle it, she didn't deserve it, and she was now ready to turn and run away. To chalk all of this; the conversation, the situation, and even her own thoughts, on the witch messing with their minds. But then Bruce frown, and took a deep breath.

“So what... we... disappear?”

The relief that flooded Natasha's body was overwhelming. Her lips twitched into the tiniest smile, as she looked up at Bruce. If she didn't love him before, she had a sinking feeling that she might just be falling for him now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	15. Coded

Natasha had to admit, she'd been basically on autopilot, since leaving Clint's farm. Everything had gone by in a blur, including the jet and motorcycle chase. But now she found herself scuttling backwards, hands and heels and bum shuffling across the worn stone floor. As much as she hated to admit it, when Ultron had somehow bust through it's old former body, her jump of shock had been genuine. There were some things that life long training and rigid self discipline couldn't prepare you for, seeing someone rip themselves from inside out... even if that someone was a sentient but emotionally unstable robot-android hybrid... yeah, some things you just couldn't prepare for. What Natasha had been able to control, was where she was now 'locked up'. Of course, she hadn't actually intended to be captured, unconscious no less, but she did have a plan. Natasha and Clint always had plans. They'd devised and developed their own strategies and procedures. They'd worked for an agency that had a 'no negotiation' policy for if their agents were kidnapped or apprehended, and there was never a guarantee that other agents would be dispatched for a rescue, so the first time Clint had been captured after they'd become partners, Natasha had gone rogue to get him back. Well, rogue was relative... most of S.H.I.E.L.D. expected her the triple cross them anyway, but she was certain Coulson had somehow arranged for the jet she stole to be waiting unguarded for her. But that was all beside the point, the point was they had plans. Ever since that mission, they'd vowed to always find each other. So she knew he was searching, knew he'd be poised to come get her, knew he'd be monitoring every wave length and frequency... so when she'd spotted a beat up Morse Code machine, covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs, Natasha had been ecstatic. The feeling carefully hidden behind a mask of fear and confusion, though her elation wasn't the only thing hidden, so was the pain. As she'd shuffled 'stupidly' into her 'cage', her left leg had dragged, and if the looseness in her kneecap was any indication, Natasha was rather certain it has dislocated. Still, she didn't let that stop her from discretely dragging the machine over, to where she'd propped herself against a stack of crates, and began to contact Clint.

.-- .. -.. --- .-- - --- …. .- .-- -.-   
.-- .. -.. --- .-- - --- …. .- .-- -.-

Widow to Hawk  
Widow to Hawk

She wasn't sure how many times she sent out to same message, since there was no clock nor a window that she could track the sky from. But she repeated the same eleven letters, over and over, until his answer finally came.

…. .- .-- -.- - --- .-- .. -.. --- .--  
… - .-- - ..- …

Hawk to Widow  
Status

.-- .. - …. ..- .-.. - .-. --- -.  
.-.. --- -.-. .- - .. --- -. ..- -. -.- -. --- .-- -.  
.-.. --- --- -.- … .-.. .. -.- . ..-. .- -.-. . --- .-. -.-- .. -. -.-. .- … - .-.. .  
.. -. -.-. . .-.. .-..  
-.- -. . . .. -. .--- ..- .-. . -..

With Ultron  
Location unknown  
Looks like factory in castle  
In cell  
Knee injured 

… - .-. ..- -.-. -.- . .-. … -... .- … .  
\- .-. .- -.-. . -.. .--- . - - --- … --- -.- --- ...- .. .- -... --- .- .-. -.. . .-. …  
…. --- .-- -... .- -.. .. … -.- -. . .

Strucker's base  
Traced jet to Sokovia boarders  
How bad is knee

-.. .. … .-.. --- -.-. .- - . -..  
-... . .-.. - - .- -.- . -.

Dislocated  
Belt taken

She was actually really angry about that. Her utility belt contained everything she needed to get back on her feet, a field split designed by Stark, along with vials of morphine and Metoclopramide. It wouldn't have been comfortable, but her knee would have been weight baring, and the injections would have controlled the pain and nausea. Her belt also contained her beloved lock picks, a gift from Clint for their 'first anniversary as partners', as well as the components to make PLX, some high amp widow bites to trigger the explosive, not to mention a small pack of C-4 for good measure. Being without her belt was infuriating, but even with it, Natasha had to admit she didn't have a valid extraction plan without the boys and the jet.

.-. . … -.-. ..- . .-- --- -. - -... -. - -... . .-.. --- -. –.

Rescue won't be long 

-.-- … ..- .-. .--. .-. .. -. -.-. . … … .. … .. -. .- -. --- - …. . .-. -.-. .- … - .-.. .

Your princess is in another castle

\-- .-.. ..- .. –. .. .. … -. -

My Luigi isn't

.. -- -- .- .-. .. --- -... .. .-. -.. -... .-. .- ..-.

I'm Mario, birdbrain

..-. --- .-. - …. .- - .. -- -. --- - -.-. --- – .. -. –.  
.-- .. .-.. .-.. … . -. -.. - …. . …. ..- -. -.-  
.. -- . .- -. - …. . …. ..- .-.. -.-

For that, I'm not coming.   
Will send the hunk  
I mean hulk

-.-- --- ..- -.. .. -.. -. - .--- ..- … - –. --- - …. . .-. .

You didn't just go there

\--- …. .. -.. .. –. .--. . .- -.-. …. . ...

Oh I did Peaches

Barely resisting the urge to sigh, Natasha leant her head back against the crate behind her. She couldn't believe Clint was pulling this stunt... oh who was she kidding, of course she could. Clint was a little shit when he wanted to be, which was often. She'd get him back though, perhaps she'd hide his new arrow heads, bribe his favourite pizza place to mess up his order for the next month.


	16. Understand

“I adore you.”

Natasha has really, truly meant it. She did adore Bruce, and it might have been crazy, but she thought she might be able to love him one day. But that didn't matter. Her feelings didn't matter. Even his feelings didn't matter, as much as she hated to admit it. Despite the intelligence she'd relayed to Clint, Ultron had already put his plan in motion, and Sokovia was now hundreds of miles above ground level. As much as Bruce didn't want to lose his cool, the Avengers... Sokovia... the world needed the Hulk. No one accept Clint would ever believe her, but Natasha blinked back tears as she kissed Bruce fiercely, before steeling herself. She hoped in time he would forgive her.

“But we need the other guy.”

She hated, _hated_ seeing Bruce fall, but she forced herself to watch. After all, she was the one who had pushed him over the crater's edge, so Natasha felt she owed Bruce that much. To watch, to wait. What surprised her, was how quickly the Hulk emerged. She had expected Bruce to have been close to the bottom before the other guy took over, but barely a minute had passed, before the Hulk was landing in front of her. Natasha hadn't feared Bruce's alter ego for a long time, but she braced herself as the other guy stared at her. If the Hulk was going to react negatively, she deserved it. Natasha knew she had betrayed Bruce when she pushed him... perhaps the worst betrayal she had ever done. He wasn't a mark, he wasn't a mission, but a friend... perhaps even more. He deserved better. So Natasha was surprised, when the Hulk grunted at her, almost like a greeting, and practically smiled at her. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw Bruce looking out of the other guy's eyes, if only for a moment. It was probably stupid, but Natasha couldn't help hoping that he understood. As much as she had wanted to run away from it all with him, she couldn't leave the team... the only friends she'd ever had besides Clint and Phil, before the mission was complete. Was it too much to ask, that Bruce would forgive her for it?

 


	17. Seek

Ultron was gone, the threat was gone, but so was Bruce. Six months had passed, since Natasha had blinked back tears, and tried to beg the Hulk to just come back. Actually _begged_ and pleaded, but nothing had worked. Thankfully, the guys had said nothing at the time, diligently ignoring the fact that her eyes shone with unshed tears. As days had turned into weeks, she'd gone through the range of emotions. First telling herself over and over that Bruce would be back, and soon, and she just needed to throw herself into work to get by. Then had come the anger, where Natasha pummelled Clint during their sparring matches, whilst raging that it was all Fury's fault for originally sending her. Then she'd tried bargaining with a god, asking Thor to first tell her where Bruce was, before finally settling for knowing if he was alright. The warrior's reassurances were of little comfort, as she sat in the dark, nursing her sixth Vodka of the night. Some hours later, when the second bottle was empty, Natasha vaguely thought she should be annoyed that someone had interrupted her solitude. But when Tony simply poured himself a large scotch, and sat silent beside her on the white leather couch, she realised she wasn't the only one mourning Bruce's absence. As Natasha had watched the sun rise over Manhattan, with Stark still by her side, she decided it was time to accept that Bruce wasn't coming back. It had been nearly a month, it was time to move one. Of course, that was the morning the first postcard arrived.

The first one was from Fiji. A picture obviously taken from a boat, with the mountains rising majestically from the water. On the back was one single word: **Safe**.

A month later, one arrived from New Zealand. Hawke's Bay to be precise, and the reference caused Natasha to smile. The fact that it depicted a white farm house set in acres of vineyard, only added to her amusement. On the back was a surprising message: **I'm sorry**.

Another month brought another postcard. Singapore's skyline at night, shining in all it's technicolour glory. It was not a place Natasha had expected Bruce to go, and on the back was a simple note: **It's not home**.

With the next month, came the next postcard. Gyeongbokgung palace done in black and white, and Natasha couldn't help but wonder if Bruce had looked up Helen, whilst he'd been in Seoul. On the back was a message she'd never expected: **I miss you**.

The final postcard came a month later. The hectic streets of Calcutta were clearly depicted, and on the back, the words she'd been secretly hoping to see: **Come find me**.

Before Natasha could even call F.R.I.D.A.Y, a hand was lightly settling on her shoulder. It spoke volumes of their developing friendship, that she didn't whip round and punch Tony on reflex. As it was, Natasha glanced over her shoulder, to find the inventor dangling keys in front of her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a postcard was sticking out of the pocket of his suit jacket. Unable to help herself, Natasha gave her friend a small genuine smile, as he drop the jet keys into her hand.

 

 

 


End file.
